Love Me Tender
by XxHot92xX
Summary: The bruise above my elbow, look. It's shaped like a heart. antisasusaku. No ownage to Naruto.


I was bad again today. I can't ever control what spews out of my mouth. I can never seem to seal off the tap of obscenities that fall from it. I try to reason with myself that it wasn't my fault, that I'm only human, that it could be _anybody's_ mistake, but I can't fool myself. I know what I did. I'm constantly reminded for what I did. So stupid, I was, to say such a thing. I know better.

It isn't the first time I've been bad, that I've broken an unspoken rule. My first crime - I was shocked to find myself laying upon the cold ground, a hand to my cheek in wonder of how it stung so sharply. Tears of confusion rolled down my cheeks and I couldn't seem to get enough air. _Why did he strike me? Why did he push me down?_ His eyes were bloodshot and menacing, staring at my form that was unceremoniously sprawled across the damp concrete. I remember the shiver that went down my spine in that span of three seconds. I remember how his lip upturned every so slightly. But I only imagined the sardonic smirk, for when I blinked, there was a frown that marred his handsome features. My head was spinning with thoughts, warning bells were ringing in my ears, telling me to _run_ and never look back to what I was about to leave behind. I felt my emerald eyes watering again.

"_Get up."_

And I did. I reached for the hand that was offered to me, my legs shaking uncontrollably, adrenaline still coursing through my thin veins. I can only imagine how disheveled and wild I looked in that moment. How pitiful I had become. A kunoichi shouldn't be shaken from a slap. A chuunin shouldn't be hurt from such a primitive act. A lover shouldn't question her companion's intentions. My mind reeked with unfaithful thoughts that day. I vowed to myself, as we continued to eat dinner once more in silence, that I would never be bad again.

I failed.

At first, I struggled. I retorted with shouts and threats that I'd report him, that I'd leave, that I'd push him back. One look from those spinning tomoes, however, I saw my mistakes. I saw that I was wrong. Friends and family questioned the blue and yellow marks I received over the course of a week. Training, I told them. It wasn't a complete lie. I was training - training to control my wrongful actions. Kakashi-sensei wasn't so easily fooled, taking me aside by my arm. I flinched at the contact. I didn't mean to. I shouldn't have done that. It was bad to do that. Sensei glared at me with his lone, grey eye, interrogating me to no extent. The questions he asked, the accusations he made... The walls were closing in on me, it seemed. When I shook my head in a negative to every one of his inquiries, Kakashi-sensei sighed. He knew, and I knew, that the matter was more than it appeared.

As time went on, my struggling ceased. I saw how it only hindered me. It made the bruises deeper and the strikes harder. It took the split lips longer to heal when I tried to fight back. So silly. Why would I ever want to challenge him? Why did I question him? He never meant to do it on purpose. It was all my fault. They were all my mistakes. I brought this upon myself.

The stinging in my left cheek is a little more smart than it was two days ago. I guess I really upset him tonight. _Bad._ Hadn't I learned my lesson already? Don't I already know that he never likes it when I say, "You look tired tonight." No, he's never tired. You're weak if you're tired.

_I'm so weak.._

I can hear him downstairs now. His footfalls are almost silent, but I can hear the fury in each step. It's all my fault. He's coming up the stairs now, I can almost picture his sharingan spinning out of control. He must've been in the cupboard again. He almost never comes to me twice. I was _really_ bad tonight. His huffs of anger are getting more clear now, I know he's probably standing right outside my door. Why do I think I can hide? He finds me every time. The wooden door is no match for his red radars. But why would I want to hide? He's my one and only. He took me in when no one else would. It must be an instinctual "fight-or-flight" response. I need to extinguish it soon.

I watch the knob turn slowly, completely biding his time. A part of me, that I thought had died a long time ago, is angered by the masochistic way he sweats me out. How he enjoys chasing down his prey inch by inch. I push those unthinkable thoughts down. They just aren't viable anymore. The door opens.

He was in the cupboard. The way his steps aren't as coordinated as they usually are, the way his sharingan is slightly glazed and the way he smiles ever-so-slightly... I know he's drunk. He'd never smile like that if his mind were clear. I keep my place on the ground, kneeling, offering myself to him (foolishly, the inane part of my mind says). He stops short of stepping on the folds of my skirt. I wait, my eyes look into his own with some sort of bravery I didn't know I still possessed. He seems to like this. Maybe, just maybe, I pleased him. Maybe it'll all go back to normal.

I shouldn't ever think such stupid thoughts. What am I saying? This... This is normal. _Isn't it?_

I see his hand shoot out, but I don't even flinch. I've gotten better over the span of these two years. I can't stop the tears pricking my eyes, though, as he balls my roseate hair into his fist. He tugs me up by my scalp and I can feel a scream working its way through my larynx. I swallow it down.

"So nice of you to wait for me, darling."

His cold relentless voice makes my teeth chatter. I know it's not him talking, though. It's the alcohol. _He doesn't mean it. _

He tugs again. I swallow once more. It bores him, I know it does. The way his frustrated breaths pant out like a starving dog is a clear-cut sign. I know what's coming next (and maybe sensei does too) and even though it happened so many times before, I can't help the hard flinch that wracks my body as he lifts and throws me toward the bed on the other side of the room.

I can feel the blood mat my hair as roots that were securely anchored are now exposed too early. I try so hard to fight the sob that is rumbling in my throat. _He doesn't mean it. _

He's coming again with that glint in his eye. He's not done. It hasn't been five minutes yet. I can handle it. _I can handle it_.

The punches begin and I can feel my skin give way to blood and nasty bruises. They seem much harder than any of his previous outbursts. What did I do? I know I did something wrong, I know I shouldn't have said that but... Is that what's really making him this mad?

I can feel my hands go up to block the blows without my consent and I can hear the pitiful whisper of _"stop it"_ make its way out of my mouth. Dammit. I didn't mean to say that. He never likes it when I speak out like that. I feel a smack make my cheek implode and I'm sure the inside is bleeding profusely, the tangy taste of metal gracing my tongue. He takes my hair again and pulls me up to look me in the eye. My face is right in line with his and I can feel his warm breaths fan my bruising flesh. There's something different in his eyes tonight. The way his sharingan is dispelled, the way his ebony iris's are tracing the numerous scratches that zig-zag themselves across my cheek... It's different. I can hear my tears plop upon the wooden floors.

_I still love you._

He shakes his head and releases my hair. I crumple to the ground in pain that I'll never admit to. I flutter my eyes shut, knowing it's not wise to do so, but I'm just so tired. I feel his arms envelope my small figure and place me upon the bed. The sheets will have to be changed tomorrow. Red clashes horribly with the white linen. I open my emerald eyes one more time, seeing his black figure slink towards my door. His hand is resting upon the knob in contemplation.

_My bruises love you._

He turns back towards me. I look back. That insignificant part of my mind is stirring again. It whispers to run away, go to sensei's house, go get help. It's wrong. It's always wrong. I see his index finger flinch, probably sore from that hard slap from before. The way his eyes are staring, but not seeing concern me. What is he looking at? The past? My mistakes? _His mistakes_. Damn that voice.. His grip tightens upon the brass knob.

We stare at each other like that for awhile. What is sent through our eyes to each other, I do not know. Perhaps apologies? Promises? I can't control what my eyes say. That's one thing I'll never master. My lips are sealed shut, but no matter how many times the bruises rise from my skin, my eyes can never be silenced. Kakashi-sensei says it's because I'm human. I say it's because I don't know when to quit...

There's nothing more to say for tonight. Tomorrow will give rise to more arguments or perhaps maybe a quiet evening. I'd like that. I need to stop messing up.

My skin is tender and I can feel perhaps ruptured veins throbbing beneath it. It's a little hard to breathe, but I'm fine. I'll be fine when all is said and done.

_He doesn't mean it_.

I feel his eyes leave my face and he begins to shut the door. Just before the wooden door is about to seal off him and me completely, it stops. A shrivel of light floods through the crack of the slightly ajar door. A thin line of communication, a small lifeline to hold onto. I stare at it; my emerald irises start to tear. My nirvana doesn't last long as I see the light dissolve as he shuts the door firmly. I feel my fingers grip the blood-crusted sheets tightly, my body slowly lowering itself so I'm staring at the blue ceiling above. It somehow reassures me that it's okay to be blue sometimes. It's okay that my cheeks are swollen, that my breath is coming out in wisps.

It's okay. I know it is.

It will always be okay because he loves me.

o-o-o-o-o-o

_A/N:_ Holy moley. Oprah influenced me, I swear. -is shot by sasusaku fans anyway-

Okay, so here's the deal. I was watching Oprah (yes, yes, get the laughs out of your systems), and lately, there's been abused women coming onto the show. So, as I watching this horrifically, I thought of Sakura and Sasuke. I can totally see that being an abusive relationship (and so does a good majority of people on with all the stories about it).

So, Sakura is pretty much brainwashed and is a shell of her former self (former being the strong 15-year-old in Part II who isn't useless). Sasuke just has this power over her, it seems. I am a die-hard Kakasaku fan, so I had to have Kakashi's name in here _once_. Okay, maybe three times. But any who.. This pretty much wrote itself and is _extremely_ short compared to my latest oneshot Newbie (check it out.. It has Yondaime in it woo!).

Anyway, please, don't send flames berating me for making Sasuke "mean" and Sakura a "wimp". This is an actual, serious problem. Some victims of abusive relationships actually think like this. So please, if you or anyone you know has this sort of problem, go get professional help.

Thanks for reading and putting the guns down!

_- - H. 92_


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